


Onyx and Emerald

by waywardrose13



Series: Onyx and Emerald [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assault, Dean x Reader, Death, Demon!Dean, F/M, Fanfic, Fanfiction, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Trigger Warnings, Violence, Witch - Freeform, Witches, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, hexes, rape/non con, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose13/pseuds/waywardrose13
Summary: An untrustworthy witch can make complications arise much more easily. A deep seated fear can make nightmares come true with the right spell. A past evil can make it easy to bring that nightmare to light. She never thought she’d ever have to see those onyx eyes again, nor did he think he’d ever have to look him in the eyes. But sometimes, nightmares come true.





	1. Chapter 1

Onyx.

Not the usual emerald she was accustomed to. Not the sweet, gentle eyes that she had fallen in love with.

But the onyx she feared. The bottomless, pitch black eyes that had her numb with terror.

The eyes that she had to look into as he broke her not just seven months ago, were raking up and down her body as though she was a piece of meat. The eyes that haunted her dreams were in front of her once again, taunting her, piercing her soul in the very way they did those months ago, making her bones chill and body shake.

Fear coursed through her veins as the onyx eyes stared into her own. His grip on her arm tightened, and he bent down to whisper in her ear, making chills ripple up and down her spine.

“We’re going to have so much fun, you and I, Kitten.” He smirked against her skin, his fingers dancing along her collarbone, tongue flicking out and caressing her temple. “And this time, I won’t hold back.” 

Three days earlier

“You do understand Rowena is a backstabbing bitch, right? She’ll do anything- anything- to keep her own ass safe. She’s not going to do anything without it helping her in some way,” Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes, sighing at his older brother, looking over at his best friend for help. Y/N just shrugged, not wanting to get in the middle of another Winchester brother fight.

“Dean, we need her help. Whatever this other witch is doing, it’s seriously dark stuff. Face it, we need a witch on our side and Rowena is the only one who we know of that will be willing to help,” Sam said.

“Willing to help? Are you insane? Rowena only helps if we force her to or if she gets something in return,” Dean told him. He ran a hand over his face, groaning at his brother’s stupidity. “Once she shows up, she’ll realize what we’re facing and she’ll throw us to whoever this witch is like that-” He snapped his fingers loudly, causing Y/N to jump slightly- “We aren’t calling her.”

A knock made the three hunters’ heads snap to the bunker door. Sam rubbed his neck and got up from his seat. “Too late.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Dean cursed. Sam gave him a look, walking over to open the door and allow the redhead in.

“Oh, look at what we’ve got ‘ere,” She said in her high, accent thick voice. “It’s vera rustic.”

“Oh can it, Rowena,” Dean snapped. “We don’t need your help, so you can take your leave now.”

Rowena looked up at him, pursing her ruby lined lips. “That isna’ what Sammy dear told me. I only want to help,” She said, batting her lashes innocently. Y/N scoffed, looking away from the witch and to the wall. Rowena peered around Dean, raising a brow at the girl. “You have something to say, Elf?”

Y/N looked back over at Rowena, narrowing her eyes at the redhead for using Crowley’s nickname for her. Her lip twitched, her eyes turning back to Sam. She never liked Y/N. Not in the slightest. She was sweet and kind and selfless. On top of her gentle nature, she could be a badass when needed, easily one of the best hunters she had come across. She was also impossibly beautiful. She had grown out of her awkward teenage body and face, turning into a naturally alluring woman without even trying. She was twenty-five, gorgeous, smart and everything Rowena wished she could have been years and years ago.

And she hated her for it.

She smiled at Sam, her eyes locking with the hazel ones of her favorite Winchester brother. “What ‘canna help you with, Samuel?”

“Er- There’s a witch we’re after. She’s doing some seriously dark stuff. She’s been casting some hexes and curses a few towns away and we think we may have a spell that could help us.,” Sam said, his eyes looking over at Y/N for a moment. He noticed her displeased glare pointed towards the redheaded witch and he bit his lip. “There’s a spell that we could perform on Dean that would draw her towards us. Kind of like a binding spell. Once she’s near us, we can kill her. She cloaks herself and this is the only thing that could maybe work.”

“And you need a witch to conjure the spell,” Rowena said, finishing for him. “But what do I get in return?”

“Figures,” Dean muttered. Rowena shot him a glare, scoffing.

“You really think I’d help you flannel wearing twats and your bitch-”

“Hey!” Y/N said raising her brows.

“-For nothing? I don’t think so,” She said.

“A book. The spells aren’t too advanced, but I think you may like it,” Sam said. He grabbed a book from the table behind him and held it out for her. She eyed it carefully before reaching out and grabbing it, the cool leather soft against her fingers. She ran a ruby red nail along the spine, her other hand flipping open the first page.

Amateur spells, Rowena thought to herself. Who do they think I am?

She hummed to herself, an idea popping into her head. The Winchesters never had been awfully nice to her, nor had Y/N. She had been somewhat helpful to them, but they never reciprocated. And then Y/N had proceeded to almost kill her not three months ago. She smiled, knowing a spell that could work that not only would hurt Y/N immensely for what she almost did and pay the Winchesters back.

“Alright,” Rowena said nodding. “I’ll help you.”

***

“The spell is complex. Binding spells are incredibly tedious.” She sat at the library table, her head bent over a book. The hunters stood to the side, waiting for instructions. Rowena’s plan was running smoothly. It had taken almost two days but she had found a book with the spell she was looking for, telling them she found the binding spell that will help lure the witch to them. But in reality, it was a spell that could unleash the darkest part of a person, duplicate it into a new being.

And Rowena knew exactly what would be unleashed.

“I need wormwood, a flask of demon blood, black hellebore and bones from a human hand,” She read. The hunters shared a look, thinking for a moment.

“I think we have wormwood,” Sam said. “Maybe hellebore. The other stuff we can get easily.”

“I’ll get the demon blood,” Y/N said. Sam held Ruby’s knife out and she took it, slipping it into her boot. She jogged up the stairs, disappearing through the door.

“I’ll get the hand,” Dean grumbled. “I just love digging up graves. Just ask my lower back.”

Sam went off to find the other ingredients, leaving Rowena alone. Her lips curled into a wicked smile, planning an escape for after the spell.

***

It turned out, Sam hadn’t found hellebore and had to go out and find some. He had to drive a couple hours to a botanical garden that sold it. Y/N had retrieved some blood from a crossroads demon she conjured and Dean had dug up a grave and retrieved the bones, although he wasn’t at all pleased.

Dean sat in one of the wooden library chairs while Sam and Y/N stood off to the side, watching and waiting. Rowena mixed in each ingredient, her eyes glued to the book.

Turning to Dean, she held the bowl in her hands, raising it a bit before reciting the words. Her eyes glowed purple as she spoke, Dean grunting as the spell began to work. “Eadar-dhealaichte agus unleash.” A tingling sensation ran through Dean, a sudden searing pain running through his spine. “An uilebheist taobh a-staigh, rage agus bàs.”

Dean let out a pained cry, Y/N taking a step towards him. His body twitched and seized violently, a laugh emitting from Rowena’s lips.

“Well, the spell seems to be working,” She said. “But I’m afraid now is where we depart. I don’t want to be around for what happens next.”

“What the hell did you do, you bitch?” Y/N hissed. She balled her fists and stalked towards the redhead, anger flashing through her eyes.

But before she could reach her, Rowena muttered a few words and vanished. Y/N stopped, letting out an annoyed breath.

“Y/N.” She turned towards Sam, his eyes trained in front of him. Y/N followed his eyes, her breath hitching in her throat at the sight.

Dean had fallen to the floor, a groan escaping his lips as he stood. But what really had the two staring, was another Dean sitting in the chair, his light brown hair longer and face a few years younger than the Dean standing. And eyes onyx like coal, a vicious smile curling on his lips as he took in the hunters in front of him.

Sam and Y/N stared in disbelief at the scene in front of them. She never- not in a million years- thought she’d have to see him again. See the man who tortured and broke her nearly to the point of not being able to fix. She swallowed thickly, a deep seated fear quickly began bubbling to the surface, and she found it almost impossible to stand.

Dean’s emerald eyes- her Dean- were staring into identical shaped onyx ones. His jaw was set and his fists were clenched. The man in front of him laughed, the black fading into its natural green. He looked over at his- or, other Dean’s- girlfriend, giving her a sly smirk.

“Hey there, Kitten,” He cooed at her. He smiled widely, his tongue running over his teeth as his eyes scanned her body. “Miss me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey there, Kitten,” A voice purred behind her. She froze, her eyes widening at the sound of his husky voice. Sam had called her not hours before, warning her that he was a demon. That she should wait and go after him when he arrived.

But he had found her first.

She turned slowly, eyes raising to meet the emerald ones she missed so much. But instead of the loving, soft look she usually received from them, she got a detached and somewhat demented look.

“Dean,” She breathed, not able to bring her voice louder than a whisper.

“I’ve missed you,” He said, his hand raising, the back of his fingertips trailing down the side of her cheek. She swallowed hard, not knowing what was to come.

His smile was sinister, his tongue flicking out to trace over his bottom lip as his eyes devoured her. She was frozen with fear, her hands shaking by her sides.

When he had died, her world had shattered. He was her first love. The first person she really opened herself to, spilling her dark secrets to. The first person she truly trusted.

She had met the brothers when she was in college. A demon had taken a liking to her, and the brothers rescued her, but the demon had escaped. They took her in, promising to protect her, that she could leave once the demon was killed.

But by the time it was finally dead, she didn’t want to leave, and the boys didn’t want her to either.

Dean had taken a special liking to her. He was more protective over her than Sam. He liked hanging out with her, doing things for her. Sam had noticed it, a bit put off at first because of the ten year age gap. But he soon realized that it didn’t matter. She was a genuinely good person with a kind soul. She had become an excellent hunter and friend, and soon the best thing to have ever happened to Dean.

Like most love stories do, they had their rough patches but they worked through them easily. They were in love and a pair of fighters, not letting anything get in their way.

Once Dean acquired the Mark of Cain, things had changed. He became more distant and a bit violent with her. Sam had told her to keep her distance, but she didn’t listen, knowing it was the mark controlling Dean. That whether the brothers knew it or not, he needed her.

And then he died, Metatron ramming him through with an angel blade and Y/N’s world just about collapsed. She never thought she’d recover from that, the feel of her heart breaking in her chest the most painful thing she had ever experienced.

When he went missing, Y/N made it her mission to find him. Up until Sam told her he was a demon, and she knew she had to wait for the younger Winchester to meet up with her before they could continue the search.

But it seemed the demon had found her first.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Dean,” Y/N said, her voice wavering. He smirked down at her, tilting his head a bit as he moved his hand to the side of her neck.

“Oh, I know you have, Kitten,” He said. “But, the problem with that is… I don’t want to be found.”

“I just want to bring you home, Dean,” Y/N said. Her voice sounded broken. Desperate. If it was the old Dean, he would have brought her into his arms, promising her that everything would turn out ok.

But it wasn’t that Dean. Instead, he let out a dark chuckle and rolled his eyes. “If you want to leave here with the skin of your ass, I suggest you leave. Now. And don’t try to find me. I won’t be as nice next time.”

“Dean,” She whispered. “Please.”

He sighed, his eyes boring into hers. “Fine. Suit yourself.” His emerald eyes flashed black, and Y/N’s eyes widened. Those were the last things she saw as he brought his fist to her temple, her world going dark.

***

The demon looked down at himself, his lips curling into a small smile. He stood from the chair, rolling his shoulders and looking around the bunker.

“You’re still in this place, eh?” He asked, looking over at his doppleganger.

“This is fucked up,” Dean said. “But I suppose we won’t have long to deal with it, seeing as you’ll be dead soon.”

The demon scoffed, raising a brow. He took a few steps back, his eyes roaming the group. “Really? You think you’re going to be able to kill me? I doubt that. Look, just let me go. I won’t bother you. Hell, throw in the bitch and I promise not to kill anybody. Well, at least not a lot.” He smiled smugly, holding his arms out in a friendly gesture. “Whaddya say, Sheriff?”

“I say, fuck you and why don’t you make this easier and give up now,” Dean said. “You really think you’re going to be able to defeat three hunters?”

The demon thought for a moment, his face falling. “You’re right.” He shrugged. “I won’t be able to fight three hunters.”

Suddenly, his hand was being flicked upwards, Sam and Dean flying back into two of the pillars, an invisible force holding them. The demon stalked towards Y/N and before she could do anything, he gripped her arm, pulling her tightly to him.

“But now, I only have to fight two. She’s mine, boys. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” He cooed.

“Dammit. I forgot I could do that,” Dean groaned.

She shook like a leaf, panic rising inside her as the memories flashed behind her tightly closed eyes. The monster who lurked in the shadows of her mind had her in his grasp, fingers digging into the delicate flesh, his breath fanning over the top of her head. She shuddered as his other hand moved to her back, his fingertips running up and down her spine, feeling as she shook in terror. “Open those pretty eyes, Kitten. I want to see them.”

She ignored him, keeping them tightly closed. His grip tightened, his nails puncturing the skin and leaving crescent shaped marks. She winced and obeyed, dread filling her bones like led.

Fear coursed through her veins as the onyx eyes stared into her own. His grip on her arm tightened even more, and he bent down to whisper in her ear, making chills ripple up and down her spine.

“We’re going to have so much fun, you and I, Kitten.” He smirked against her skin, his fingers dancing along her collarbone, tongue flicking out and caressing her temple. “And this time, I won’t hold back.” 

“Dean… Please,” She said quietly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t I?” He hissed. “You escaped me last time. Ratting me out to Sam. That was a low blow, Y/N. And you need to be punished. You remember how fun your punishments were? Well, they were fun for me at least.”

“Don’t you fucking lay a hand on her,” Dean growled from behind her. The demon looked up, locking eyes with the twin emerald ones.

Onyx and emerald, locked together in a silent battle. A rage behind both of them, the itch of the mark they both bore needing them to rip each other’s throats out.

He slapped the hand at her back down, making her lurch forward. He raised his brows, lips pouting a bit as he feigned innocence. “Oops. Seems I already have.”

“You son of a bitch.” Dean knew exactly what the demon was capable of. He was him at one point. He knew what he had done to Y/N, and it killed him a bit more every day knowing what he had done to the woman he loved. She had finally gained his trust again, finally didn’t flinch as much as he touched her, finally began sleeping in the same bed as him. And now, he was going to lose that again. He could see it; the fear. He could see her shake and murmur to herself the mantra that he had her recite every night.

“I’m going to be okay. Everything will turn out alright. Dean is back and safe, I am home and safe. Everything will be okay.”

His heart ached and he struggled against the hold, desperately wanting to run to her.

The mark wanted something different. It wanted to throw her aside, lash at the demon, see the crimson blood seep through his fingers as he tore its throat out. Watch as the light erupted through its mouth and eyes as he rammed his blade through the heart of his doppelganger. He wanted it to bleed. He needed it to bleed.

“Oh, ouch. You called your own mother a bitch,” The demon tsked. “How dare you. She’s dead.” He smirked, his eyes looking back down at the woman in his hold. “Alright, Kitten. Whaddya say we get out of her, hmm?

She looked up at him, his smile sending a chill down her spine. It was then she realized how far she had come from the shaking girl only seven months ago. She was strong, that was for damn sure. She couldn’t allow herself back in his hands. She wouldn’t. She was a fighter, always has been. It was the sudden anger surge that brought her out of her fearful persona.

She ripped her arm back fiercely, shocking the demon in front of her. She stumbled away from him, shaking her head. Flames burned in his coal eyes as he watched her back away from him. He snarled as she spoke her next word, anger flaring in his chest at the audacity the woman had.

“No.”

***

It was cold.

Goosebumps rose on her flesh as the cold air nipped at it, chills running through her body like a current. She groaned at the pounding headache she sported, the throb in her temple growing as she became more alert. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark room.

She tried moving her arms, only to find them handcuffed to either side of the bed she had been laid on. She yanked at them, the sound of metal clanging against metal waking the monster who was slumped over the table on the other side of the room.

She shivered and it was then she realized she had no clothes on, only her simple cotton panties and white bra. She whimpered and struggled harder as she watched him rise to his feet, slowly moving closer towards her. A few candles were lit on either nightstand by the head of the bed and as he moved closer, the low light illuminated his face, confirming her fear.

Dean smirked down at her and he crawled slowly up the bed until he was face to face with her. “Well,” He murmured. “Look at this. My Kitten all tied up and pretty. Just for me.” He bent down, his nose running along the base of her throat.

She brought her head back, bashing her forehead into his nose as he rose his head. He grunted, snarling. His hand came up to grip her throat.

“Now, now, little girl. You don’t want to be punished, do you?” He hissed. She spit into his eye and he flinched back, cringing. He tsked, getting off the bed and taking his shoes off. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.” He turned towards the table, his hand reaching for something on top of it. She couldn’t see, but she watched as his head bent a little bit, inspecting the item in his hand.

Her heart lurched as he turned, watching as he rolled the First Blade in his hands.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” 

***

“No?” He asked, raising a brow. His black eyes narrowed, his face twisting into a silent anger as he stalked forward like a predator stalking his prey. She kept moving back until her back was against Dean’s chest, her hand gripping his jacket tightly. He sighed, wishing he could move and wrap his arms around her. But the demon’s hold was still strong, and he desperately struggled against it.

“No. I won’t go with you. I’m not going to be hurt by you again,” Y/N said. The demon scoffed, only about a foot from her now.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Kitten,” He said. He lunged forward, caging her in between the two Deans. He bent down until he was face to face with her, defiance shining in her E/C eyes.

“Yes, I do,” She said. “And I choose not to be hurt and-and tortured by you again. So you can go fuck yourself. I’ll kill you myself if I have to.” She narrowed her eyes at her, her stance taking a defensive position. Dean’s heart swelled with pride at her words. She had always been soft spoken and a bit shy before he became a demon, even more so after. But when she or him or Sam or anyone she loved was in danger, she became downright badass.

“Oh sweetheart,” the demon chuckled. “It’s not myself who I’ll be fucking.” He hissed his words, suddenly gripping her throat tightly and spinning around, throwing her harshly against the table. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this.” She regained her balance, taking a swing at his face. He ducked out of the way, landing a blow with his foot to her torso. “You are mine. Whether you like it or not.” She growled lowly in the back of her throat, spinning out of the way as he grabbed at her again. She kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. She dashed to Sam, ripping the demon blade from his belt as the demon regained his balance. He laughed, his top lip twitching into a mocking smirk.

“Really?” He asked. Her face was hard. She’d be damned if he ever laid a hand on her again. Her body was still littered with scars from his assaults. Her solid walls that kept her together had been shattered by him, obliterated to dust and they finally began to rebuild, her short foundation stabilizing her a bit. She was proud of herself for rebuilding it, even if it was small.

Although it was the face of her Dean, she wanted, no, needed to kill him. She wasn’t sure if it was out of pure rage and the wanting for revenge that drove her to want to stab the knife she was holding through his heart. But she knew for damn sure she wasn’t going to fall into his harsh hands again. This was her time to fight. To bring justice to herself.

And she was going to get it.

***

Tears rolled down her cheeks as he sliced another part of her skin, blood seeping from the wound and dripping onto the sheets beneath her. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream in pain. He had cut, burned and punched every inch of her skin, marking her body with bruises and hideous scars. All the while telling her that this could have been avoided if she had obeyed. If she had laid down and taken it like the bitch he saw her to be.

Finally, after what felt like days of endless torture, Dean pulled away from her, tossing the blade onto the table. His hands and clothes were stained in her blood and he placed a finger in his mouth, watching as she writhed in pain on the bed as he sucked them clean, his eyes flicking black at the metallic, yet sweet taste of her blood on his tongue.

“Please, Dean,” She panted. “Please let me go. Let me take you home. Please.”

She cried out as he leapt onto the bed, his hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back. His black eyes bored into hers, an inhuman growl erupting from his chest.

“What did I say?” He shouted. She sobbed against him, her eyes squeezing shut and her head falling to the side. Pain flared through her body, the current coming back and washing over her like waves on the shore. She longed for the warm sand to be beneath her toes, the salty air to wash over her skin, to feel the cool water on her fingers. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. This was Dean. the man she loved, torturing her with that godforsaken blade and burning her with her father’s lighter.

Instead of the water, waves anguish ran over her. Instead of the salty air, the scent of her own blood and sweat made her stomach roll uncomfortably. Instead of the sand, it was Dean’s hands, gripping and tearing her flesh.

“You do not mention my brother to me again, or we will start all over, do you understand? I will beat it into your head until you are too broken to speak.” He gripped her throat tighter for emphasis, her sobs being silenced, her tears running faster. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” She said breathlessly. He let her go, standing back up. She cried silently, not wanting to cause another outburst.

“You make me do these things, Kitten. If only you… You need to behave,” He said running a hand roughly through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. He sighed, looking down at her marred body, watching as she panted for air. He hummed, not quite finished with her yet. His eyes dropped to the simple cotton panties she wore, smirking a bit.

“Don’t be sorry, Kitten. You can make it up to me,” He said softly. He unbuckled his jeans, his eyes never leaving her face as the sound of his belt being undone made her eyes open and flash to him.

She shook her head as he moved over her, ridded of his jeans and down to only his t-shirt and boxers.

“I’m afraid you’re not in any position to tell me ‘no’, Kitten,” He said.

“Dean, please don’t do this,” She whispered. He scoffed, his fingers trailing down her torso to her panties.

“Like I said.” He ripped the fabric easily, making her flinch. “You’re in no position to tell me ‘no’. Now, unless you want to be punished again, I advise you lay there and take it like a good little girl.” 

***

“Really,” She said. She twirled the blade, her eyes never leaving his. “You broke me, Dean-” He smirked at that- “and it took awhile just to begin speaking again. But now, that you’re here, I can finally find some solace. I can ram this damn blade through your heart, watch the sparks behind your eyes. Killing you may make up for you breaking me. At least a little bit.”

Dean’s eyes never left her. His heart panged in his chest at her words. Sure, she was speaking to the demon version of him. But he still did those things to her. Still broke her by his own hands. He made this rage inside her be brought to light. And it killed him, watching the two circle each other, matching faces of bloodlust and anger.

“Alright, princess,” the demon hissed. “You want to play with the big boys? Play with the big boy toys? Fine. Go for it. But once you lose, and you will, what happened before will look like child’s play compared to what I have in store from you.”

She clicked her tongue, tilting her head a bit. “Oh, Dean,” She said. “I wouldn’t get so cocky if I were you.”

He growled and she smirked darkly, holding the blade at the ready. They stood, staring each other down for a moment, waiting.

And then they lunged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a sexual assault scene that may be triggering or sensitive to some readers. Caution is advised.

Y/N slid underneath Dean’s arm, her knees hitting the concrete floor roughly. She popped back up behind him, jabbing the knife up. Dean reached back and grasped her arm, stopping the knife centimeters from his back, yanking her forward. She smashed into his back and he took the opportunity to lift his arm up and wrap it around her, bringing her forward and violently throwing her into the pillar across from Sam. Her head made a sickening crunch as it collided with the stone, leaving a smear of blood as she slumped to the ground.

“Face it, princess. You can’t beat me,” He said, an amused expression crossing his face as she wobbled to her feet.

“Watch me,” She hissed. She brought her fist up, clocking him in the jaw. He stumbled back and she brought her foot up, effectively colliding it with his stomach. He let out a grunt but recovered quickly, grabbing her fist as it flew towards his face, bending it and pushing her forward.

“Give up!” He roared. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she got up again.

“Never.”

They danced around each other, spinning and ducking away from fists and feet. She was knocked down again and again, but she kept getting up, kept going for more. She wouldn’t give up, not now. Not when she was stronger than she was before. Not when she could finally let out all the anger she had buried over the last months.

She took punch after punch, not letting her pain show. She kept going, lunging herself at him, giving him all she had. Sam and Dean watched anxiously. She was holding her own for the time being, but they could tell she was getting tired, the blow to her head making it difficult for her to see straight. She blinked a few times, the edged of her vision going blurry before she swung the knife at him again, slicing torso as he moved out of the way. He hissed in pain and grasped her arm, twisting her arm and pulling her against his chest, effectively trapping her against him.

“You’re making this worse for yourself, Kitten,” Dean said. “Give up now before I do something I regret.”

“Please. The only thing you’re gonna regret is not killing me sooner,” She seethed.

“And why is that?” He asked, raising a brow. She scoffed, smirking a bit.

“Because I will keep fighting until I kill you.” 

***

Y/N’s legs never stopped kicking. With her arms immobile, her legs were her greatest chance at defense. She bucked and twisted and thrashed, the burning pain ripping through her body as she fought against the demon above her. He snarled, his hands gripping her knees and holding her legs down. She screamed and cried, pleading with him to stop.

But he didn’t. He forced himself inside her, laughing at her pain filled scream, her eyes screwing shut as she suddenly felt herself being ripped in two. He bit her throat, her blood trickling into his mouth as he moved.

“This could have been much better for you, Kitten,” He said, shaking his head. She jerked in her bindings as he suddenly moved hard and fast, pain ripping through her abdomen again. “But you just had to go and fight me. That’s not how good girl’s behave. So you won’t be treated like one.”

“Dean, please,” She sobbed. “It hurts.”

“Oh, I know,” He murmured, pouting. “But-” She yelped as he began moving again- “I don’t give a fuck.”

She bit her lip to keep from screaming. He snarled and growled and chased his release, using her body for his own sick pleasures. She couldn’t believe that this was Dean. The Dean who cuddled with her at night, nuzzling his face into her neck just to be closer to her. The Dean who placed tender kisses on her temple of forehead each time he passed her. The Dean who whispered “I love you” spontaneously.

When he finally pulled away from her, he slapped her thigh, chuckling to himself.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He said, panting. He backed up towards the table, grabbing the bottle of whisky and taking a few gulps of it. “I needed that.” 

***

“Oh, are you now?” He asked. “How are you going to kill me? You’re weak. Worthless. Just the bitch we picked up and felt too bad about throwing on the streets. The fucking pathetic girl who can’t get through a conversation with a stranger without stuttering. I see right through the whole shy girl act. I know who you really are. An attention whore. Well, guess what? I’ll give you your damn attention.”

Tears had welled in her eyes as those words left his lips. It wasn’t her Dean, but it was his voice; his lips; his face. And it fucking hurt.

“Don’t listen to him, Y/N,” Dean said. “You know none of that is true, baby. Please. I love you so much.”

The demon rolled his eyes, faking a gag. “Oh, please. Spare me the damn sweet talk. You know it’s not true, Dean. Don’t deny it. In case you didn’t know, because you’re a goddamn moron, I know what’s in your head. I am you.” He looked back down at her. “And everything you fear is true. All this-this bullshit he has been spewing at you, it’s just that- bullshit. He doesn’t care about you.”

“You bastard,” Dean growled. 

“Deny it, Dean!” The demon yelled, a demented look on his face. A smile graced his lips, his eyes wide and dark as night. “I fucking dare you! You know she’s weak. You know the only reason you kept her around was because she was so desperate to be loved. I know the internal battle you have, wishing you didn’t have to put up with her. Well guess, what? I grant you your wish. Like I said before, she’s mine.”

Sending a wink to his double, he snapped his fingers, and he and Y/N vanished. Sam and Dean fell to the floor, no longer being held up by the invisible force. Dean let out a roar, his fist colliding with the stone pillar.

“Dean,” Sam said. The older Winchester ignored him, his hand running through his hair.

“Goddammit,” Dean said. His voice broke, and Sam knew he was on the verge of breaking down. He sounded so defeated.

He had failed her. She was strong, so strong. She had escaped him once, and he knew that if he didn’t find her soon, she’d be able to do it again. But he wouldn’t be able to live if he saw her broken again. She had healed so much since then, but he wasn’t sure what would happen now. If she’d be flipped back to how she was before, a switch going off in her brain to undo all the progress over the past seven months.

He knew what he did to her. He could still hear her pleas for him to stop, feel her blood and bones break under his hands. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

He just hoped he could find her, and soon. Because this time, she may not make it out alive. 

***

Days went by. Y/N’s body was littered in patches of dry blood, scabs and grisly scars. Dark purple bruises had formed around her throat, wrists and head, other small ones making appearances on the rest of her body. She had been completely ridded of all clothes, Dean tearing her underwear on the first day. She was cold, hungry and in so much pain, that she had passed out multiple times. Each time either being slapped and cut awake or by other various tortures, usually by Dean forcing himself on her.

In a little over a week, she had been broken, her walls shattered and obliterated to dust. Her will to fight had been diminished on the fourth day, completely and utterly broken by the demon she once loved. But that man was gone, a bloodthirsty monster in his place that didn’t care who she was.

The door to the motel room opened, and he walked in, setting a bag on the table. He hummed at the sight of her on the bed, and moved towards her, his hand moving down to turn her face towards him.

“How is my Kitten doing?” He asked. She stared up at him, the look of defeat shining in her eyes, making him smile in satisfaction. “Not great I take it?” He walked back to the table, twisting the cap off the beer in his hands and taking a swig.

“You’ve had your fun, Dean.” Her voice was raspy, her throat raw from screaming. “Just let me go.”

“Why would I do that?” He asked. “You’d just run off to Sammy and tell him where I was. Not that I’d stay here but he’d be pretty damn close.”

“I promise I won’t.” He eyed her carefully, searching her bloodshot orbs for any proof she was lying.

“I don’t believe you,” He said.

“I swear it.”

“No you don’t,” He said. “You just wanna get out of here. I’m not falling for it, Kitten.”

“So you’re just gonna kill me?” She asked. “Cut and slice and rape me until I finally bite it? Well,” She smirked, using the last of her strength. “The fuck are you waiting for, hm? You’ve broken me down already, why not slice my throat and be done with it?”

Because I can’t seem to kill you yet, Dean answered in his mind. Even though he had already inflicted so much pain upon her, he couldn’t conjure the courage to kill her yet. That was his original plan; have a little fun with her for a day or two and then kill her and move on. But he couldn’t do it.

He cursed his old self for that. Because deep, deep down, buried underneath the mark’s power and the demon running through him, was a tiny sliver of the old Dean, the Dean who loved her irrevocably. And because of that tiny sliver, he couldn’t find it in himself to kill her.

His eyes flicked black as a sudden rage over took him. He cursed love and everything it meant as he picked up the first blade, stalking over to her. He gripped her hair, yanking her head back as he snarled at her.

“I don’t want to hear any sass from you, bitch,” He said. “Now I have to punish you.”

He brought the blade down and ripped it harshly across the top of her thigh, blood spurting onto his jeans and the white sheets beneath her.

“Buckle up, princess. I’m afraid we’re gonna be here awhile.”

***

Dean tossed Y/N onto the bed roughly, watching as she scrambled off it and landed on her feet on the other side, the blade still in hand. His face was expressionless, his eyes observing her carefully. Her hands shook even though her mind willed them not to. Her eyes flicked around the room out of panic, even though she needed to seem unaffected. As she tried her hardest to make him think she was unafraid, it was slipping through the cracks, letting him know she was, in fact, terrified.

Because he had taken her to the very room he had tortured her in all those months ago.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains detailed descriptions of a murder threat. Caution is advised.

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room frantically, a sickening feeling bubbling within her as the memories played behind her eyes, making her relive every dreaded memory that had happened within that room.

The dark shadows that swam in the back of her mind came back, a dormant current suddenly awakening, rushing her darkest feelings to light, making her knees buckle.

She fell onto the brown carpet, panic rising rapidly in her chest as she began to hyperventilate. Her will to fight had disintegrated, the Y/N who had finally come back, crawled into her shell again, hiding where it was safe. She couldn’t see the demon smirking at her across the room. She couldn’t feel the blade slipping from her hands as her fingers went limp.

She only saw the bed she had been tied to, made prisoner against the sheets and springy mattress. The bed she had been tortured on for nearly two months before she had escaped. She had beet cut, burned, sliced, beaten and raped on the bed mere two feet from her, and she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take faded yellow wallpaper that she had spent her days memorizing each and every flaw, from the tiniest scratch to the giant rip on the north west corner, revealing the sand colored walls behind it. She couldn’t take the scratched and chipped oak wood table with its creaking chairs and legs. She couldn’t take the damn hinges on the bathroom door, the rust standing out against the tarnished bronze. She couldn’t take that fucking room for one more second, the darkest of her memories embedded in those very walls, haunting her as her eyes roamed it.

Dean made his way towards her slowly, and he crouched down in front of her, his fingers moving her chin so he could look her in the eye.

“Why would you take me here?” She asked. Her voice was quiet; broken. He almost felt bad for her. Almost. But he still couldn’t bring himself to care. She breathed through her nose, a tear falling from her eye. “Why?! Why are you still so intent on torturing me? What the fuck did I ever do to you except love you? I don’t understand!” She fisted her hands in his shirt, her face growing red from the force of her shouts. “Why are you so desperate to break me again and again? I can’t fucking take it!” She sobbed. Tears dripped from her cheeks onto her thighs, staining the light denim. “You did it once before. I could barely move. I couldn’t get out of bed. I hated myself,” She said, accentuating each word carefully. She shook her head, taking a deep breath through her nose as she ground her teeth together. “It takes a lot for a person to truly hate themselves, Dean. But you made that possible for me. It felt as though my soul had left my body. It was impossible to become happy. To laugh. Or to even fucking smile. You took all that away from me! Don’t you understand?! You ripped my personality, my will to live, my goddamn soul, from me! You broke me! Why do you want to do that again?!”

He stared into her eyes, her bloodshot and teary eyes, hesitating. His face screwed up into a murderous look, his hand coming up and gripping her throat. He slammed her back, her head hitting the ground roughly. He leaned over her, his lips curling over his teeth into a furious snarl.

“You want to know why, princess?” He asked. “It was because you loved me. You were too easy. You wouldn’t fight the one you loved. I wanted to push you, see what it took to make you break. To see if you were as weak as you thought.” He scoffed, his snarl turning into an amused smirk. “Turns out I was wrong. You were weaker. You broke so much faster than I expected. I planned on killing you, but you were just too fun. My little toy that I could play with whenever I wanted. I wanted- no, want- to break you because I fucking hate you. I loathe you. I just want to shove my hand down the back of your neck and rip your spine from your body.” He closed his other hand into a fist in front of her face, making a ripping motion backwards. She flinched, cowering into herself. “I want to reach through your torso and feel your rib cage break underneath my fingers, feel your lungs puncture as I rip through them. I want to watch you choke and sputter and scream. I want to fuck you as you’re drowning in your own blood.”

“Please,” She sobbed quietly. Her chest ached from the force of them and she could taste the saltiness of her tears. “Don’t. Please, Dean. I can’t take it. I can’t take the fear.”

He chuckled, his hand unclenching. He ran the tips of his fingers down her face, wiping up her tears in their wake. His face softened, his lips tugging into a small smile.

“I don’t really give a fuck.”

He brought his fist down and everything went dark.

***

It had been a month since Dean had abducted Y/N. He hadn’t given up the relentless torture. In fact, it had began to get worse. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She wouldn’t let it show around Dean just how damaged she was, saving the tears and prayers for when he went out.

The first two weeks, she had screamed her head off for help, pleading with anyone to rescue her. She’d hear people outside the motel room, chatting and laughing easily, not knowing about the horrors that went on in the room beside them. She thought they must hear her pleading for help. If not then, when she was screaming in pain, surely.

But Dean had caught her one day, laughing at her fruitless attempt of being rescued.

“The room is warded,” He had told her. “No one can hear you scream. No matter how loud you are.”

All hope had been lost at that point. The metal handcuffs had cut deeply into her wrists now, the burning pain constant on the daily. There were large puddles of blood beneath them from when they actively bled, staining the brown carpet a darker shade, making the room all the more sinister. She had lost weight, and a lot of it. She used to have voluptuous curves; round hips and ass; thick, muscular thighs; a soft belly. But now, she was skin and bones.

Scars and bruises littered her once soft skin, her skin a few shades paler than what it was before. She would be presumed dead if it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest and the occasional blink of her eyes.

She had surpassed the point of giving up. She now relished in the fact that death was only a few blocks away now, her time inching closer and closer each day. She felt as though she was submerged in murky water, her vision clouded and skin tacky as the mud and fragments of various things ran over her with each stroke she took. She could barely see the light, just a small luminent part above her. She swam closer and closer but could never reach it, eventually the water filling her lungs. She suffocated, screaming but no one could hear her, not above the water, at least. The creatures who dwelled in the depths amongst her watched closely she struggled, her limbs kicking and pushing against the current bringing her down and filling her lungs. The souls who had the luxury of walking on land moved on with no knowledge of what was happening below them.

So yes, she fought. She fought for a long time. But eventually, the water became too much. It had filled her lungs and pushed against her. And one day she stopped kicking, stopped swimming up to the light. She let the current pull her down, the creatures watching as she sunk deeper and deeper, and she watched as the light became smaller and smaller until the murky water became too dark and she couldn’t see at all. She allowed the water to swallow her, to roll her this way and that way, laying limp as the pressure of it all became too much.

She didn’t see the light again, not for a very long time. But that’s for a different time, much further into the story. After she gave in to the current, things became a bit better. Dean allowed her to use the bathroom on her own, even taking the handcuffs off eventually to do so. He stopped using the first blade on her and allowed her to eat at the table with him. He had provided her with a blanket at night as well, along with a pillow.

She treasured those luxuries, not biting at him or doing something to upset him to have them taken away.

She had them for the rest of her captivity.

***

“Got anything?” Dean asked. Sam’s fingers danced along the keys on his laptop. He checked traffic cameras around the area, called motels, even called Crowley. He hadn’t come up with jack squat, and Dean began to fidget.

He traced Y/N’s phone, only to find that it was still in their shared room. He had done spells, contacted Cas, Jody and everybody he could think of, telling them to keep their eye out for him and Y/N and to call immediately. But as expected, no one called. He and Sam, nor anyone else, had any leads to her and the demon’s whereabouts.

“I can’t believe this is happening to her again, Sam,” Dean said. He chewed on his finger, pacing back and forth. Sam’s eyes followed him, his foot tapping anxiously. “Do you think she’s dead?”

“Well when you were… him… You didn’t kill her, right? So what makes you think he would kill her now?” Sam asked.

“She escaped him… me… us, whatever- and told you. Trust me when I say this; it won’t be pretty. I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.” He hesitated. “No, that’s a lie. I was him once. I know exactly what he’ll be doing.”

“Dean, you need to calm down. You pacing and freaking out isn’t going to help her,” Sam said. “Now, are you sure there’s no place you know he would’ve taken her? I mean, there’s gotta be. If you were a demon again, where would you take her?”

Dean thought for a moment, continuing his pacing. Sam had a point. The demon must have had an idea in mind, that’s how he would have transported there. He would need to have a clear image in his head and know exactly where to go.

Dean knew that demon him would want to take her someplace he knew wouldn’t be disturbed. He’d be comfortable there and know it was a good place to keep her. Which means he would have to not only have been there, but spent quite a bit of time there. With that being said, Dean must know where she is, or at least have a clue, since the demon was brought back to light just a couple hours before.

Think, Dean, think. He knocked the palm of his hand against his temple, trying to think of where he would take her.

If he was a demon again, he’d probably want somewhere that would put her in an uneasy state. Somewhere that would be easy to distract her. A place that would have had memories there, whether good or bad.

A place they both had been. A place he knew was somewhere perfect to keep her and a place that would bring her uneasiness and make her an easier target.

Dean’s eyes widened as his heart suddenly jumped to his throat. He stopped pacing and turned to his brother.

“Holy shit,” He breathed. “I know where she is.”


	5. Chapter 5

Y/N stirred, her eyelids heavy and limbs feeling weighed down. Her body felt as though she had tackled a bull, her joints aching as she woke. Her eyes finally opened, her mouth feeling full of cotton and she swallowed, trying to get some moisture back.

She jerked when she found her wrists cuffed together, bound behind her head to the headboard. No, no, no, her brain whimpered. Not again.

“Mornin’, Kitten,” Dean said softly. He sat beside her, his fingers pushing stray strands of hair from her face. She moved her head quickly, biting at his hand. He pulled back in time, his brows raised. “Real mature.”

“Let me go,” She hissed. Thankfully, she was fully clothed. She wasn’t sure what he had planned but she wouldn’t stand for it. Luckily, she was prepared. Each day, she’d tuck a bobby pin in her hair, hidden underneath, pinned as close to the scalp as possible. She never wanted to find herself in this sort of situation again. All she needed was for him to leave, only for a moment, so she could unlock the cuffs and escape.

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head and patted her knee. “You escaped me once. You must be punished.”

“No.”

“Yes,” He said nodding. “You’re mine, Kitten. You must learn to obey. I own you. You know that. I must teach you discipline since you clearly don’t have any. The only way to do that is to sear it into your brain.” He got up from the bed and made his way to the table. She watched him closely, watched as he reached for something. He inspected it closely and turned towards her.

“No,” She said forcefully. “No, you son of a bitch! No!” She thrashed and kicked and hissed as he straddled her waist, gripping the pair of scissors firmly. He held up a finger, shaking his head slightly.

“Now, now, Kitten. It’s alright. We aren’t going to have our fun quite yet,” He said. He pressed his hand firmly between her collarbones and carefully maneuvered the scissors to cut away the soft fabric of her navy blue shirt. She squirmed beneath his hold but he didn’t seem to mind, effortlessly cutting away the shirt to leave her in her baby pink bra.

He plucked the ruined fabric away and dropped it to the floor. He got off of her then and made his way back to the table, dropping the scissors and picking something else up. He turned back to her, holding what seemed to be a small iron rod with a circular plate at the end and a miniature blow torch. He flipped the switch and moved the flame along the plate, his eyes flashing up to hers.

“You see, Kitten. You still haven’t grasped the idea that you are mine. You’re my greatest possession. While you were asleep-” She scoffed at that, earning a glare- “I went out and grabbed a few things. One that I had specially made when I was on Earth before. So, in order for you to understand, I’m going to quite literally sear it into you.” He held up the rod, confusion flashing across Y/N’s face.

He set the torch down and moved back over her, straddling her waist again and pressing his hand to her chest.

“You may feel a… Slight burning sensation.” He smirked at her before flipping the rod over and pressing the plate over her left breast without warning.

A scream ripped from her throat as her flesh burned, the sizzling sound making her stomach roll. Tears gripped the corners of her eyes as Dean pressed a bit harder, a ragged sobs mixing with her agonized screams.

Finally, he pulled away the rod, smiling widely down at her. She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, trying to quiet her cries. He got off of her, patting her stomach. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He moved away from her, and she dared look at her chest, a whimper escaping her mouth as she did.

There, branded into her flesh on her chest, were the initials, ‘D.W.’

***

After two months of captivity, Y/N had a plan.

A loose nail had wiggled its way from the cabinet in the bathroom. Dean was standing right outside the door (having removed any and all weapons the first day he brought her there) so she had to act fast. She did her business and moved quickly, using her fingers to pry away the cracking wood and retrieve the nail.

And for the first time in sixty days, she had found a sliver of hope.

For the first time in twenty-nine days, the light had returned above her, and she found herself kicking up against the current, fighting against it after so long of allowing it to keep her in the depths of the water. The creatures watched in awe as something awoke in the broken girl, and the watched as she struggled but eventually began to swim.

And she didn’t stop.

***

Without saying a word, Dean had sprinted, Sam calling after him. He ripped his keys from his pocket and slid in behind the wheel, Sam barely making it into the car before his brother was peeling out of the garage and out into the night, the screeching of the tires making Sam wince.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam said. “Care to explain?”

“There was a motel in-in Lawton, Oklahoma,” Dean said. Sam arched a brow, waiting for him to continue. “I had taken her there after finding her. I had the place warded and spelled so no one could find us or hear anything coming from inside the room.” Sam didn’t know everything that happened, only hearing bits and pieces and only being told half the story. All he knew was that Dean hadn’t been at all kind, torturing her and hurting her beyond repair. He had his suspicions, ones that were proven by not only the way Y/N had acted, but also the summary of her hospital visit, mentioning her exam finding evidence of what he feared. Dean’s words made his stomach churn uncomfortably. “It was ‘safe’ and a place that I knew no one could find her. I know that’s where he took her.”

“Ok, so at least we know where she is,” Sam said. “But… What do you think we’ll find when we get there?”

Dean glanced over at his brother, swallowing thickly. “If I know anything about what the guy is thinking- and I have a pretty good idea- it won’t be great. He’ll want to reestablish dominance. And I know exactly how he’ll do it.”

***

“Now, Kitten,” Dean said, running his fingertips across her cheek. “I won’t be gone long. Be good. I don’t want to have to punish you. Not too badly, at least. I’ll see you soon, my princess.” He patted her cheek before getting up and walking towards the door. He snapped his fingers and turned to her. “Oh, before I forget.” He walked back over to her, his hand making its way to her jaw. His fingers pried it open and dug around, retrieving the nail she had stuck inside. “Nice try, princess. I suppose you’ll have to be punished after all.” His face darkened and he chucked the nail across the room. And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

She waited until she heard the Impala leave before she acted.

The nail had been a dud. She hid one in her mouth and one in her hair, twirling the thing multiple times to make it stay. She pulled the cuffs as far as they could and strained her neck to the right, her hand stretching so her fingers could pry the damn thing out of her hair.

She grunted and stretched some more, not quite getting it. But finally, she felt it, and she tugged, not caring about the sting as some hair had pulled out.

She fumbled a bit, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she bent her hand to stick the nail into the cuff’s keyhole.

She had done this once before and hoped to anyone who was listening that she could do it again. She began to lose hope until she heard the ‘click’ and the cuff loosened. She let out a breath, a smile spreading on her lips. She shook her hand out, the cuff falling off. She held up her hand for a moment and let it sink in.

She was doing it.

She made quick work of the other cuff and stumbled off the bed, her weak legs wobbling as she picked up one of Dean’s t-shirts, flannels and a pair of boxers. With shaking hands, she slipped on the clothes and smoothed down her matted hair. One thing at a time, she told herself.

She walked to the door, hesitating for a moment. If he found her, she knew he’d kill her. But she couldn’t take on more minute in the prison she was in, wondering what tortures awaited her next.

She gripped the handle and turned it, unlocking it at the same time and yanked the door open, the sunlight pouring over her skin automatically. She raised her hand and shield her eyes at the bright light and took her first step outside after two months. Her bare foot met the cool concrete and she closed the door softly behind her.

It was autumn. The leaves had long changed colors and had began drifting to the ground, scattering the earth with their warm colors. The wind whipped around her as she walked further out into the day and she was glad she grabbed the flannel when she did.

A pang of sadness ripped through her heart as she realized she had missed the world changing from summer into autumn. It was her favorite time of year, and she hadn’t seen it play out.

But she didn’t have time to wallow in that fact. The sound of a familiar rumbling engine in the distance caught her attention and her head whipped towards the sound. Taking a deep breath, she took off into a sprint, running through the parking lot and across the road, knowing he would be able to see her. She heard the tires screech and it urged her on, her fragile legs taking her as fast as she could towards the forest across the way.

She made it to the trees and she burst through the foliage. And it was then that she finally, truly began to swim, the current no match for her. The light became closer and closer, bigger and bigger until it was too bright and her face finally broke the surface, a gasp filling the silence as she took a huge gulp of oxygen.

She could hear him screaming her name but she didn’t care. Her feet carried her through the brush, her adrenaline making her run faster. She finally was out of the water, the air on her face and swirling into her lungs, pushing the water out.

Her fear had dissipated for the time being.

She just ran.


	6. Chapter 6

The leaves crunched beneath her bare feet as she ran. Her breaths came in rapid pants, her body aching at the sudden exercise after being immobile for so long. She could hear Dean screaming for her, she could hear the threats, the things he wanted to do to her when he got her back.

But instead of fear from his words, she felt a spark of courage. Something ignited within her and she furrowed her brows, setting her jaw and she began running even faster. Twigs, thorns and rocks cut up the bottom of her feet but she didn’t care. She had gone through much worse over the past two months. The pain edged her on.

Finally, she saw a clearing through the trees. She glanced behind her shoulder for a second, not spotting the demon. He could still hear him, every once and a while he would shout her name in rage.

She heard a sound. Almost a swish of air up ahead. Her lips twitched into an almost smile.

And then the searing pain hit her shoulder.

She cried out, falling to the ground as a fire ignited inside her shoulder and back, spreading quickly down her right arm. He had shot her.

“Oh… Now you’re going to get it, princess,” Dean hissed. “You really think you can escape me?!”

She pushed herself up, wincing as the movement jolted her arm and she ran again. He growled and followed her, holding the gun up again.

The road was clear now. She ran in zig zags, trying to avoid the bullets he was shooting at her, all the while screaming until his face was red and spit was flying from his mouth. She was so close to freedom, she could taste it.

When she broke through the trees, a car had been speeding down the road. The driver slammed on the breaks and watched as she made her way to the passenger door. He rolled down the window, his face contorting into one of worry as he took in the battered and bruised woman in front of him.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked, a southern twang laced in his voice. She shook her head, jumping out of her skin as Dean broke through the trees.

“Please! You gotta help me!” She said desperately. He glanced over at Dean, swallowing thickly as he saw the gun in his hand. He unlocked the door, allowing her to jump in.

“Hold on, missy. And keep your head down.” He pressed his foot on the gas, tires squealing and engine whining as he peeled out of there, leaving Dean in the dust.

***

Y/N yanked on her bindings. She was beyond furious, her jaw clenched as she watched Dean hum and arrange his tools on the table. The brand on her chest was angry and inflamed, red and stinging against her skin. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the mere sight of it, the brand telling her that he thinks he owns her- wants her to know it, too. She swallowed them back, though, keeping a blank face. She refused to show her weakness again to the demon. She had crumbled earlier, and it landed her bound again.

“You know, princess,” Dean said, turning towards her. He held a small clipped blade, the silver of it gleaming in the low candle light. “I really did want to have some fun with you. I did promise after all-” she shivered at that- “but I realize… I’m too angry. I don’t think I can even fuck you without slicing your throat open and I’m no necrophiliac.” He smirked to himself. “So, I guess we’ll have to settle for something else.” His eyes flashed black.

“Let me go, Dean,” Y/N said. “And maybe I’ll go easy on you when I’m let free.”

“We both know that’s a lie, sweetheart,” he said. She shrugged- as best as she could tied up.

“Well, why don’t you take a risk and find out?” She sassed. His onyx eyes narrowed, a sneer curling on his lips.

“I told you not to make me angry before,” Dean snarled. “But you did it anyway. I told you that you wouldn’t like the punishment. You went off and told my brother, got me caught. I’m afraid you need to be punished.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Isn’t this a little bit dramatic?”

“Dramatic?” Dean asked. “No. It’s called discipline. You’re mine, Kitten. My sweet, sweet Kitten. You used to love me and I will re-teach you to. Those initials on your chest… Think of them like my mark. My claim. You’re mine. You’re the woman I have chosen to keep with me. And someday, those bindings will come off, and you’ll realize that I’m what you have and then I will allow you to bare my children. But until then, I will beat it into your thick skull that you’re mine, now and forever.”

Her eyes never wavered. “You done?” She deadpanned. His jaw clenched at her insolence. His hand tightened over the handle of the blade. “… ‘Kay. That was a good speech and all but that’s not going to work for me. See, over the months you’ve been gone, I’ve changed. I’m not going to be afraid of you anymore. Sure… You broke me. I won’t deny it. And I’ve still got scars- both physical and mental. But I won’t let you do it again.”

Raising a brow, the demon gave her a wicked smile, black eyes boring into hers with a menacing look. “Watch me.”

***

“Can I ask you what the heck that was back there? Is he the one who did that to you?” The man asked. Dean was long behind them by now, and Y/N’s heart never stopped racing.

“I… yes, but I’m okay now,” She answered.

“Ok? your ‘ok’?!” The man said bewildered. “Darlin, you look like you were just hit by a freight train.”

“I suppose so. But I’m away from him. That’s ok in my book,” She said softly.

“Do you want me to take you to a hospital?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No. I just need to call my brother.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She said nodding. “Do you have a phone?”

The man reached into his back pocket and held out the small black flip phone. She thanked him and dialed Sam’s number, picking at Dean’s flannel anxiously.

“Hello?” A tired voice answered.

“Sam! It’s me, Y/N,” She said.

“Holy shit!” Sam said. “Are you okay? Where the hell are you? I’m coming to get you.” She heard shuffling on the other end.

“I’ll give you somewhere to meet me. Please hurry, Sam,” She said. She looked over at the man before adding, “You got anywhere he can come get me?

He thought for a moment. “Well, there’s the Dixie Diner on Old Miller’s road down about six miles from here.”

“The Dixie Diner on Old Miller’s road. Quick, Sam,” She recited to the Winchester.

“Got it. I’ll be there as fast as possible.” She hung up, handing the phone back.

“I’ll get you somethin’ to eat,” The man said. “You look like you could use it.” Her stomach growled at the mention of food and he chuckled.

“I don’t even know your name,” She said.

“William Lafitte at your service, ma’am,” He said. “But you can call me Willie. All my friends do.”

“Well, thank you, Willie. I don’t deserve such kindness from a stranger like you,” She said quietly.

“What are you talkin’ about? Course you do!” Willie said.

“I suppose,” She said, turning to look out the window.

***

“Say it!” Dean roared. Y/N screamed in frustration and pain, blood staining her teeth as she bared them at him, panting.

“Never.”

He brought the curved blade down again, this time, sinking it into the junction between her shoulder and neck. She cried out, her knuckles white with how tightly she was holding onto the ropes. His other hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat.

“Fucking say it!” He barked, his lip curling back over his pearly white teeth. Blood was splattered across his face, and the coal eyes were beyond startling, but no matter how much she was terrified and how much she was panicking as her PTSD settled in, Y/N didn’t back down.

“No!”

He leaned down and sunk his teeth into the side of her throat. She screamed in agony, her blood seeping into his mouth and trickling down her neck to pool on the off-white sheets. He ripped chunks of her flesh out from the side of her neck, spitting them out onto the ground. Blood spurted from the wound, coating her bra strap and the bed in the sticky crimson. He licked his lips and bent down, pressing his mouth to hers, smearing her own blood across her lips.

“Say it, Kitten. Say you’re mine.” He huffed, breath coming rapidly from his fury.

She spit at him, making him flinch. “No.”

He brought his arm back and plunged the blade into her side.

***

Willie had taken her to the Dixie Diner, a small diner on the side of the interstate. The place was empty aside from an elderly couple and Willie spoke to the owner, whom he knew quite well, and explained the situation. She closed the diner for the time being and sat them at the bar.

“Well, what can I do for ya, sweetie?” She asked. Her name tag read Lucille. Her copped hair was dusted with gray and was pinned to the back of her head, the small curls falling out of it from here and there. Her face was weathered by age but kind, her lipstick painted lips curled into a warm smile.

“Oh… Anything is fine,” Y/N answered. “Really.”

“Alrighy. I’ll get ya our famous short stack, orange juice and a piece of our apple cobbler, how about that?” She raised a brow.

Y/N nearly drooled at the sound of that. “That would be amazing.”

Lucille nodded and headed off into the back to place the order. Y/N turned to Willie, her lips curling into a small frown.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry yer pretty little head about that now. I’ve got it covered,” He said, placing a wrinkled hand over hers, patting it.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said. He smiled at her, his eyes becoming a bit wet. “Ye know, ye remind me so much of my daughter.”

“I do?” She said.

“Oh yes. She had yer H/C hair, it was a bit curlier than yers though. Big E/C eyes much like yers. A smile that could light up a room,” He said. “Ye look so much like her. She was as sweet as honey, she was. The most happy baby. I’d give anything to see her again.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,” Y/N said. Willie’s lip twitched and he patted her hand again.

“Murdered,” He said quietly. “By her boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Y/N said.

“Me too.” Willie sighed. “That’s why I didn’t hesitate to stop for ye. I saw the rage in that man’s eyes. I couldn’t let something like that happen again. If I could stop just one more thing like that…” He trailed off. “Well, maybe it could make up for not saving my Sally.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Laffitte,” Y/N said.

“Maybe not. But it’s a father’s job to protect his daughter. And I did gone and failed her.” He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “But, enough of that, now. Ye said yer brother is on his way?”

She nodded, letting out a breath. “Yeah. I’m not sure how far he is from here. I’m not even sure what state this is to be quite honest.”

“Why, yer down here in Oklahoma,” Willie said.

“You don’t say?” Y/N said.

“Here you are, sweetie,” Lucille said. She placed two plates and a glass in front of Y/N. “I added a scoop of ice-cream to the cobbler. I always think it’s best that way.”

“Thank you,” She said. She looked over at Willie. “Both of you.”

“Of course, dear,” Lucille said. She reached over and took Y/N’s hand. “Now, you eat up. Get some fat on those bones.”

Y/N laughed, causing both Willie and Lucille to beam. “Will do.”

She ate in a comfortable silence, stopping only when the bell jingled above the door. She turned, eyes widening as the giant man walked in. She slipped off the stool and ran to him.

“Jesus, Y/N. I thought you were dead,” Sam said as he pulled her towards him. She squeezing him tightly, having missed the younger Winchester dearly. He pulled away slightly, holding back a cringe.

“I did too for a while.”

“What the hell happened?” He asked. “Were you with Dean the whole time?”

She flinched at his name, something not going unnoticed by Sam. “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it yet. If ever.”

“Ok. Yeah, of course. I’m just glad you’re alive,” He said kissing the top of her head.

Finally, Y/N was heading home. She never thought she’d ever leave that motel room, alive at least. And here she was, heading home.

A spark of hope ignited inside her for the first time in a long time, and she finally felt safe.

***

The Impala sped down the highway. He knew he was getting close. His blood ran cold as the spot she was picked up by the old man had passed, the road sign on the side confirming it. He hadn’t spoken a word to Sam the whole drive, not matter how many questions the younger Winchester asked. He was too busy in his own mind to listen. His fear gripped his heart like a vice. He wasn’t sure what he’d find in that ratty motel room, but he hoped to God she was still alive.

Tears began to well in his eyes at the thought of finding her dead on the bed. His nightmares were filled with images of her dead. She was the only woman he had ever unconditionally loved. He loved her flaws. He loved her laugh, all though she hated it. He loved how she wore glasses when she ran out of contact solution. He loved how shy she was when they first met. He loved her smile, her taste in music, her hair, her eyes. But most of all, he loved her heart. She was one of the most caring people he had ever met. She never put herself first. After hunts, she’d make sure he and Sam were okay, even if she was bleeding from the head. She had sacrificed herself one too many times for Dean’s liking for himself or Sam. She was absolutely selfless. She always wanted to do the right thing. She was such a kind spirit. She had told him once when he asked why she wouldn’t stab the demon they had just hunted. Why she hesitated and nearly died. Her answer was simple; “There’s a person in there, Dean. They may be dead, but that’s still a human body. I couldn’t bare to take a human life.”

She killed monsters effortlessly, but she refused to kill anything else. Whereas Sam and Dean would crunch a bug beneath their foot, she’d catch them (usually in her hands) and put them outside. Whereas Dean wouldn’t bat an eyelid at a struggling baby bird, Y/N had picked it up, searching for his nest and put him where he belonged with all his other siblings. She never drank too much, she never slept around, she was never jealous. She was a pure and absolutely the kindest spirit.

But after the events of seven months ago, she had changed. Drastically.

Instead of her usual half a beer, she began downing full bottles of whisky like it was nothing. She had become angrier; harder. She crushed the beetles under her foot and walked past the birds. She was darker in a way, the events in her past making her hard. It scared Dean. Her mind had become a twisted place. It had taken a long time to even make her crack a smile, let alone laugh. She had finally began to soften again, fade back into her old ways.

But he knew this would set her back. And it was killing him.

***

The ride back to the bunker was silent. After leaving the diner and giving Willie a warm goodbye, Y/N seemed to retreat into herself. She had napped for most of the way, too tired to sleep. And after waking up, she was a different person from earlier. She was quiet and detached, staring off into space. Sam would try to coax words out of her, but she’d stay silent. The adrenaline boost had worn off, and she was back inside that motel room, afraid to step out of line. Her face was blank, eyes glazed over and the light she previously had was gone, snuffed out by the demon’s darkness.

“Let me carry you,” Sam said. “Your feet are all cut up.” Reaching for her, his eyes widened as Y/N flinched away from him, eyes squeezing shut as she whimpered. He swallowed thickly, heart beating rapidly. “Y/N?”

She shook her head, getting out of the car and walking away, limping from the garage down the halls of the bunker. Her fingers trailed along the wall, running along the cracks. She was happy to be home, but she was still haunted by her memories.

She took a shower. Dean allowed her one shower every two weeks. He enjoyed the sight of her blood and his seed on her. She was long overdue for her latest shower, and she watched as the blood, dirt and grime swirled down the drain. She washed her hair with her strawberry shampoo, the soothing scent of familiarity seeping into her bones, calming her. She deep conditioned her locks and scrubbed her body with a washcloth for the first time in what seemed like forever, Dean not allowing her one. She paid extra attention to the areas between her thighs and to her feet, the washcloth coming away coated in blood.

Finally, truly clean, she dressed in her own clothes. They were too big for her now, but she didn’t mind. They were hers. Her soft, flannel pajama pants and plain black shirt were comforting to say the least.

She brushed, flossed and used a whitener on her teeth, doubling the mouthwash amount. She brushed her hair for the first time in a while, taking nearly an hour to completely brush out all the tangles and snarls.

Sitting in the library, she stared at the table as Sam talked with Castiel.

“Can you heal her?” She heard the Winchester brother whisper. The angel sighed.

“I have to. I’m running on stolen grace again but it should be enough to keep me alive and fix her,” Cas said. He moved slowly towards her, careful not to startle her. She was shaking slightly, eyes focused on a crack in the table.

Reaching out, he tried placing two fingers to her forehead, but she flnched, nearly falling out of the chair.

“Woah, hey,” Sam said. “He’s just going to heal you, alright?”

She nodded without looking at him, taking a deep breath, and Cas placed two fingers to her forehead, healing her physical wounds.

Scars were still left behind, however. With stolen grace, Cas couldn’t heal her to the full extent. She’d always have the extra reminder of the horrors that happened behind the closed door. And no matter what, scars or no scars, nothing could change the fact that everything had been embedded into her mind forever.

***

The motel came into view and Dean drove even faster, peeling into the parking lot and parking. He got out of the car and stalked up to the door. He stalked across the lot, hand already reaching for the demon blade.

“Dean!” Sam said, closing his door and the driver’s side door before dashing after his brother.

Before Sam could say anything, Dean had his foot against one of the doors, the wood splintering off its hinges.

And what they saw made chills run up their spine.


End file.
